Just Another Day, Just Another Monster
by InfiniteEscuro
Summary: What if, weakened and groggy, it hadn't been someone willing to help Serana, but instead a fully fledged Vigilant of Stendarr working for the Dawnguard due to their similar cause who'd come across her tomb? Well, what happens is a sensible, Dawnguardly decision.


It was surprising how many of them were so stupid; vampires, that is. Most wore light armour and almost all seemed not to realise, simply walking forward with an arm outstretched and that pathetic little draining spell active. As if they all believed themselves above death; until a Dawnguard axe or a Vigilant spell ripped through their undead bodies. It the brief moment of realisation and pain, terror washing over their falling body, the beasts learned that they were not gods, not Daedra, not even true monsters.

Just abominations that were to be purged; to be ripped and flayed and broken by the justice of Stendarr.

Wearing a full set of heavy Dawnguard armour, magic hood and robe modified to drape over the metal, Terrik had come to a stop. Another Vigilant of Stendarr, Brother Adalvald, had fallen to these creatures. He'd taken his amulet, to remember and honour him by; truth be told the vampires that'd bested him had been formidable. Unlike the overconfident little _beasts_ earlier, these two vampires had realised that to be here in full armour meant he'd fought his way in. He'd quickly released the bandit thrall they'd kept into his afterlife, receiving the quiet, last breath thank-you from the poor, tortured soul with a steady resolve. Even the low-lives or cruel who turned to a life of crime didn't deserve such a fate; they too tasted Stendarr's mercy in the end.

The vampires had moved, stayed mobile; wearing clothing and robes, not _even_ light armour, helped them in that regard immensely. That said, a sharp axe and restoration wasn't all a Vigilant could do; especially not Terrik. Pillar-like spears of yellow, blessed lightning pierced unarmoured vampires easier than Daedra. And when he proved too fast for the lightning after witnessing it blowing a hole in his friend, the male vampire Lokil still fell to spraying gouts of flame; the burning magic was extra deadly to these fiends. Terrik had brought his axe down on the writhing beast and cut off his head. Sad though, he could only muster the strength to cast that powerful lightning thrice a day, sometimes a fourth was possible but that left him aching for almost a week.

But they'd done enough for him already, by the time he'd reached the cavern. Pushing a few silver torch sconces until they were under purple fire still felt sickly to do. Ritualistic nearly. Restoration gold was flared, concentrated even now; it had no wounds to heal, but it cleansed the feeling of impurity.

Terrik snapped around with a start as the ground depressed, opened, and a stone monolith rose from purple magics. His grip on his axe remained steady, the Dawnguard metal marred still by vampiric blood as the healing spell in his left hand twisted into fire. The coffin opened with the scrape of stone on stone, and then Terrik's eyes widened, aghast, behind his helmet; a vampire! The so-called relic of Dimhollow Crypt was an entombed, likely ancient, likely _powerful_ vampire girl!

She collapsed, unsteady and groggy, to her hands and knees. Terrik froze even before his arm could raise.

Was… Did…

This beast had an Elder Scroll on her back.

She'd barely gotten to her knees, barely managed to open dim red eyes, when Terrik raised his axe and brought it down with all his strength. Even stiff, mostly unseeing and cloudy from sleep, the vampire's instinct had her dodging to the side. Rolling to her feet too quickly and stumbling, eyes wide with gasping breaths and confused exhales of syllables that never became words; she fell back over the small steps her monolith had risen within. On the ground, she rolled again onto all fours to scramble for room, and Terrik's hand froze with a sudden gasp before he could hit the Elder Scroll.

From his limited understanding, the knowledge within would be unaffected; existing as it seemed to on a level most mortals couldn't comprehend, it's knowledge would twist to be a tale _of_ its destruction. Just in case whatever it harboured could be of use someday, to someone, he'd stopped.

And now, the Vampire was on her feet with metres between them, huffing through her confusion and tensing. She drew a dagger of Elven make and her hand grew cold; ice built around it and the mist formed a shard of blue. When she threw her arm and shot the magic, Terrik's was already out to meet it; the Ice Spike collided with his Firebolt. In the end, they both lost a bit of Magicka and some water droplets splashed his armour.

Then, the Vampire rushed in with a snarl and her dagger scraped a gouge in his helmet's face. Though, as it missed, she pulled back sluggish; incredible, compared to most, but to a trained Vigilant it was obvious she was still weak. His axe clipped her wrist, left a cut and little more, but it hissed at the Dawnguard steel and the vampire backed off wearily, eyeing the tiny wound. Terrik did not let up, he couldn't; this one had a different feel about her. It would be best to push any advantage he could get, and right now he felt perfectly well while she was all but ill.

His axe's swings and cleaves either clipped or barely scuffed, while her dagger did little in the way of damage to his equipment never mind his body. It had the glow of enchantment on it; at the most he could rule out elemental. Those specific buffs activate on touch; knowing vampires, it was likely an extra source of life draining destruction. For that, she'd need to at least prick the skin.

But by a mix of heavy armour, enchantments of his own, and plenty of pressure, she couldn't find the opening she wanted. It was when, in a flash of inspiration incorrectly applied, she went for his helmet's eyes, blade turned sideways, that Terrik smiled underneath.

It was a small sacrifice to make, dodging down and letting the blade cut through his hood, because as he stood and swung his axe up and out, he landed a big cleave diagonally across the Vampire's torso. She stumbled back, fell with a grimace around tired snarling. Her weakening, still waking body was already losing itself; she dropped her dagger. At the close proximity a clash or dodge wasn't the smartest option; when she desperately moved her arm and drained, a powerful ward went up in Terrik's outstretched arm with a sharp snap. Many wards could resist only for precious seconds, but then, most wards were blue; these few seconds burned fast through his Magicka, but his golden ward kept her vampiric abilities from even grazing him.

He stepped in, over her, and brought his axe up. The vampire growled and shut her eyes, and then did something that gave Terrik pause. She vanished in a flash of black, body splitting in dozens of directions. Her Elder Scroll and dagger, not strictly attached like clothing, were left lying as a swarm of bats went livid.

They tried to escape passed him, but through a flinch of surprise Terrik's ward dropped and his axe arm moved before he registered that it _should_ , and cleaved a bat in twain. The vampire's voice emanated ethereally from the swarm as they regrouped across the stony arena. When she reformed, the pinky finger on her right hand was a little bleeding stump. She was hissing, biting her cheek, but even from here he could almost see the hand shaking. Vampires were tough and this one was no different, more so even, but tired and weak as she was…

Then, she was bleeding darkness again. But it was different, tinted with blood, as she hunched and growled. And then, in a moment of complete silent stillness, Terrik blinked. She erupted, blasting the bloody darkness away with a roar; transformed into a true monster.

Terrik huffed, frowned, and readied himself, "Do all you beasts hide this monster underneath the skin or are you just extra special?"

Her ratty wings flapped for more speed as her bare, green feet pounded heavy across the stone. She didn't bother responding with words; just swung a lean, muscled arm with claws that sliced the stone arch behind Terrik as he ducked out the way. Backing up, his left hand became hot, and in short order he sent bolts of stinging fire pelting out. Pressuring and belting the toughened green hide, even as the beast turned and roared, rushing forth through them with vastly less care.

Her arms were stronger still than she'd seemed capable of, even if she was rested, but she was desperate. Her magicka stayed on complete hold; still unused to being, well, used. She must've been away for a long time if she was so weak, especially when she _seemed_ so powerful.

His axe sliced and ripped at the reddening skin of her legs, the backs of her knees mostly, each time Terrik managed a good enough dodge. Most times he was jerking back, throwing himself into a stumble to dodge aside, or outright diving between her legs. That last one worked once, the next time she'd just crouched, throwing both hands down and slamming him to the ground hard. He'd not been winded enough to miss cleaving at her ankle tendon; it certainly had her staggered and stunned so he could escape. And now, she was limping, and missed one big, overhanded swing as Terrik leaned back.

With a flick, a spin for extra momentum as his arm moved out then swung in, Terrik cleaved deep and mortally into her neck; even tough and thickened, it bled deep as she gurgled a roar. The beastly vampire stumbled, collapsed to her back by the encouragement of a steel-plated kick to the face, and then Terrik stood over her. He gave his own roar as he crouched and buried the axe as deep into her chest as it would go, but even then, she writhed, even then she seemed living.

So, he stood, raised both arms, and channelled all the Magicka he had and more; his bones were in a dull ache even as the golden-orange spear of sun energy crackled to life like lightning in his hands.

"STENDARR TAKE YOU, MONSTER!"

He brought the magic down with both hands, and in an explosive eruption of force and static the electrical spear pierced deep before it blew. When the smoke cleared seconds later, the beastly form of the vampire lay still and dead, and a gaping hole in her charred chest allowed him to see through to the scorched stone beneath. His axe had been disintegrated in the blast.

Panting through his helmet, thick and laboured but not truly exhausted, Terrik walked to the Elder Scroll and, with great respect, he picked it up slowly, with both hands, and fixed it to his back with the strap on it; modified for the vampire to carry. He took a moment to rest, to remove his helmet and drink a few potions from a knapsack, before he started off again; drawing the silver sword he had more commonly used from his hip.

Before the day was done, the Dawnguard were in possession of an Elder Scroll.


End file.
